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But then mice with tripping noises,
Chirping chickets bring and nurse
My old thoughts, my melancholy,
And this soon becomes a verse.
Sometimes while the lamp is burning
Late, I’m dreaming without sleep,
When I hear the door-latch clicking,
Suddenly my heart will leap.
It is She. The house so empty,
Now at once is full of light,
In my life’s black frame appearing
She, an icon shining bright.
And I cannot now but wonder
Why old Time will never rest,
While I’m with my love here whisp’ring
Hand in hand and breast to breast.
